


Pet

by naughtyspirit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Anal Sex, Dating, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtyspirit/pseuds/naughtyspirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Completely inspired by imjohnlocked's post on tumblr:</p><p>au where sherlock is the english teacher and john is the maths teacher and they are dating and steal kisses in the hallways and hold hands under the table as they check notebooks and have wild rough sex in the teacher’s lounge after school hours</p><p>http://imjohnlocked.tumblr.com/post/58432478326</p><p>It's irresistible</p><p>~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pet

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Pet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016373) by [ogawaryoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ogawaryoko/pseuds/ogawaryoko)



The apple that sits on the edge of John Watson's desk was not put there by a student. It is green, richly polished and never bruised and it is replaced every day. No one ever sees it delivered, but Mr Watson, on seeing it always smiles, palms it and settles the apple in his top desk drawer as he tells the class to get their books out. There has been an apple every day for the past month and while his students believe that someone in class is trying to get a better mark, only John knows that his benefactor is actually vying for a blowjob in the stationary cupboard.

He hasn't indulged yet, though he has considered it. John's issue with the stationary cupboard is not the smell of ink or slightly damp paper, but because the lock on the door is on the outside and he already believes they're risking a lot. He believes that they may well get caught if they continue to misbehave on campus, but John is not a quitter and admits in the quiet moments that the danger only makes things better. At the beginning of the year he was prepared for boredom, but there was Sherlock and John's outlook has changed.

Partnered at staff development six weeks ago, they haven't looked back since. John arrived late to the hotel and had to take the last seat available, next to the new English teacher. He'd heard stories in the few weeks that Sherlock had been at school, that the new teacher had an unorthodox approach to preparation and had already disposed of half the planned curriculum. He'd also heard that Sherlock's reaction to Donovan's teasing had been quick and ruthless and that now everyone knew Anderson's wife was on holiday. He wasn't entirely sure what the one had to do with the other, but both of them glared at Sherlock whenever he walked past and it had left the new boy sitting on his own at the table.

Sherlock had glanced up at him when John sat down and smiled warily. They were tasked with putting together enrichment classes for the children and John argued that while a morgue was indeed an interesting location, perhaps it wasn't the most appropriate place to take teenagers. He did concede that a forensic crime scene would be a good exercise for enquiring minds but John stood firm on it faking it. Sherlock argued that smart kids would see through fakery and wanted to offer them the real thing, but he started to grin as John pointed out that it would be a bit not good. John thought it was charming.

John thought Sherlock _was_ charming and the more the man talked, the more convinced he was that the rest of the staff were missing out. Sherlock was openly rude and dismissive of stupidity but he could offer the world if you were prepared to listen. John had seen much of the world before, the gritty and rude parts, but never like this. Sherlock was a beacon and when he propositioned John in the bar later that evening, John slid his hand up against Sherlock's thigh and squeezed tight. Less than fifteen minutes later, he was balls deep inside Sherlock, his jeans pushed down to his knees and Sherlock's warm cock fisted tight.

It was a deliciously hot first date and neither one of them minded about the grit of the wall or the way they had to scramble quickly to get away before they were caught. Sherlock had spent the night at John's place and explored every inch of the man. John had experienced toe sucking before, but hadn't had his feet examined and he was fascinated with Sherlock's explorations. They fucked again before the sun came up and as Sherlock pulled his clothes back on, he winked at John and asked him on a date.

Since then they've indulged in stolen moments, unable to be too far away from one another when they have each other to explore. John's students don't know what changed their teacher, but John appears to have discovered a renewed passion for maths. None of them know that John has spent several nights etching equations on Sherlock's body, or that the remains of John's handwriting is inked beneath the tight shirt the English teacher affects. They don't know that John's smile is in memory of a sharp slap against Sherlock's buttocks the night before to make him stay still while John completed the equation now written on the board. They don't know and possibly wouldn't care, but John smiles all the same and his fingers tighten on the marker as he wonders what he'll do tomorrow night.

John revels in the moments after class has begun and he's able to step out into the corridor while his students work through the test he's set. He makes his way across the hall to the first door in the English department just so he can listen to Sherlock talk. Sometimes John doesn't care what he says, because only the tone is important and Sherlock can give gravity to shopping lists as well as English classics. John closes his eyes as he leans against the wall. On the best days, he's joined shortly afterward by his lover and Sherlock always presses him back against the lockers, his mouth a crushing luxury as he steals a single kiss and slides a hand beneath John's jumper.

They could be caught, _should_ be caught at any time, but luck has been on their side and John's stepped back into class several times with the scent of Sherlock's cologne on his skin and the taste of Sherlock's mouth on his lips. On one memorable occasion John had to slink back into the classroom and sit down, his erection refusing to acknowledge he was in class. He spent the entire lesson at his desk and would resent the lack of freedom were he not desperately working to create the next opportunity.

His back and thighs have become bloodied and bruised where Sherlock took the opportunity to bite and grip and scratch. John doesn't care about that. He's seen real injuries, has worn many of them and isn't scared of being hurt. He feels alive and in six weeks the world has become clear again, the dusty browns and greys faded away to reveal the glorious techno-colour of Sherlock's world. It's unknown, the path there is untrodden and Sherlock is the great pathfinder. John follows along willingly and embraces each opportunity with a slightly bewildered but eager touch.

The sex is great, but John's favourite times are the quietest. Not because he can breathe out, because sometimes he's sure that his breathing is always uneven around Sherlock. John likes it best when they're marking in the staffroom. Sherlock's students seem to make enough mistakes that the man scrunches his hair into tighter curls and sneers at every other word. John's students seem to do better, but then there's far less room for interpretation in the world where one and one is two. John thinks that they are a firm two, a solid two that make sense to him. He holds Sherlock's hand beneath the table when the man's hair is in danger of being ripped out at the roots. Sherlock looks at him then and offers a frown, quickly replaced by a smile and a reassuring grip of John's palm.

They linger behind when everyone else goes home. John claims it's to tidy up because everyone else leave messes. Sherlock doesn't claim anything at all. Twenty minutes after the last bell rings, Sherlock's neatly pressed trousers are down by his ankles and John's tongue circles the tight ring of muscle that demands entrance. Five minutes after that John's thrusting away, hips banging against Sherlock's ass as he bucks inside and covers Sherlock's hand on the table. Their hands link and John presses his own bruises in against Sherlock's hip as he fucks him. He only releases it so that he can grip the English teacher's cock to reach his own climax.

After, he leans over Sherlock's spent body, his hand coated with milky semen. He'll clean the table they're pressed against, wiping away the evidence as they straighten themselves up and promise that one day they will go out on an actual date that doesn't end in furtive sex. Sherlock might never say it, it might be the one area he is oddly silent about, but John is freely in love and says it often. He grins when he says the words and Sherlock accepts them and smiles easily in return.

And every day there is an apple on John's desk. Green and ripe and full of promise.

In week seven there is a heart carved beneath it on the desk.

John sets his class to work and diligently orders a lock for the inside of the stationary cupboard.


End file.
